The Silent Tribute
by vifetoile89
Summary: A story in drabbles, focused on a Hunger Games tribute who, stubbornly, refuses to ever speak a word.
1. Reaping, Visitors, Mentor

The Silent Tribute

By Vifetoile

Disclaimer: I neither own _Portal_ nor _The Hunger Games_.

A/N: Yes, another Portal/Hunger Games crossover, this time exploring the mix from the complete opposite direction. This one is also a challenge to me – each drabble is _exactly_ one hundred words. It's tough to be evocative when one's loquaciousness is so curtailed (I like using lots of words and drabbles are scary).

For readers of 'The Aperture Games,' do not despair! I have gotten back to work on 'Games' with a will, but until the next chapters are ready, enjoy this variation on a theme.

And if you're not a reader of 'The Aperture Games,' then hey, why not check out this _other_ crossover fanfic I wrote?

My note will soon exceed the actual story in length. Onto the text! Thanks for reading, and reviews are more cherished than cake!

Her Reaping

The two girls huddled, brunette and blonde, swaying like wheat in the wind.

A name was called.

The brunette let out a cry. She covered her mouth with her hand. All eyes turned to her, but people moved away. A minute ago she had been indistinguishable from the other shabbily clad girls of the Community Home. But she had cried out.

She walked through the path they made for her, and ascended the platform.

"Any volunteers?"

She stared at the staring crowd. There was only silence.

Reaping equaled judgment. She had been Reaped. She must not be a good person.

2. Her Visitors

The other children of the Community Home filed past her. None met her eyes. All said some variant on "Goodbye," or "I'm sorry," or "We'll miss you."

To her surprise, her math teacher entered. She said, "You can win this. I know you can." She rubbed away tears as she left.

The last girl, the blonde, slapped Chell's shoulder, earning a look. "Remember: if you win, we eat like kings. So come back. No questions."

Chell glared at her friend. But neither one let sharp words hang between them. They hugged one another tightly, until it was time to go.

3. Her Mentor

No one agreed on when her mentor went mad, if during his Game, or afterwards, or perhaps if he was mad long before, and that was his salvation.

His eyes didn't match. He peered through his wild hair, over his shoulder, muttering to ghosts. His sentences' endings ill-matched their beginnings. People turned away.

But when Doug Rattmann offered Chell his hand, she took it. His grip was cold but sure. He pulled her closer, and looked into her eyes. Finally, he said, in a rasping voice,

"You never give up."

When she nodded, a smile spread across his wasted features.


	2. Capitol, Stylists, Chariot Ride

4. The Capitol

The Capitol was blaring and blitzing and glitzy and glittering and glimmering and clean, so very clean. The Capitol's streets were wide and the buildings towered over everything, none so much as the Training Center.

Thin strips of sky were visible overhead. Chell never thought she could miss open, empty fields so much.

Would the arena have stars?

Her attendants directed her eyes to all distracting, bright things. She wasn't supposed to see the Avoxes. But she saw, anyway. Their eyes begged "Help." Their red, callused hands were the machinery behind the pristine façade.

Good people don't end up here.

5. Her Stylists

Her principal stylist didn't look at her. He gibbered, planned, and smiled a bright, false smile.

Of her prep team, the first asked questions endlessly, her yellow lips never stopping as she popped off one inane inquiry after another.

The second, with a blue-dyed hand, tried to stuff candies into Chell's mouth. "Treats." Constantly he offered her truffles, cookies, ice creams, cake.

The third was angry. He snapped what he held and what he said. His long, red fingernails raked over Chell's bare skin. No-one saw. He pinched. Pierced. Scratched. Clawed. Growled. Snarled in her ear.

Chell made no sound.

6. Her Chariot Ride

Grey horses pulled the chariot. Her partner wore blue; she wore an orange embarrassment..

The Capitol escort said, now was the time to make a grand first impression. Her partner was preparing to smile and wave for all he was worth.

Chell thought otherwise. They'd already gotten their first impression of her, at her Reaping. As the horses set out, she got her first look at the crowds.

She stared out at them, not waving, not smiling. _Studying_. Like they were a problem to be solved.

The chariot ride only lasted a few minutes, anyway. And she made an impression.


	3. Competition, Training, Interview

7. Her Competition

When the girl from District One was Reaped, she waved to the crowd, her black hair streaming in the wind.

When she arrived in the Capitol, her hair was white.

For the chariots, she wore streamlined black and white. She studied Chell coldly, with eyes like yellow diamonds.

Other tributes whispered that she had whored herself out to the Gamemakers – willingly –that the Arena would be crafted to be in her favor –she was bound to win.

She offered Chell an alliance.

Chell shook her head, and made an enemy.

(Chell tried to ignore the youngest ones, the hopeless ones.)

8. Her Training

Doug Rattman was the only one left who still looked at her like she was human. His insanity, then, didn't bode well for her humanity.

He told her to focus on survival, camouflage, studying other tributes. And she did. But for herself, she learned how to hold a knife.

Watching the others, Chell tried to imagine what her friend from home would have to say about them. But, over time, her friend's memory faded. Precious memories all faded away. She wondered, despairing, how she could lose such sacred thoughts.

She answered herself: Why would something holy remain in this place?

9. Her Interview

In a river of words, delivered in voices loud and quavering, one stood out. A mellifluous, flat female voice told of perfect confidence in her abilities and intelligence. She had been trained to kill, and kill she would. This was the Career's speech.

In the flood of awkward pauses, one silence stood out. Chell said not a word during her entire interview. She simply stared at the interviewer, until his nerve collapsed, and he laughed, with the audience. Her stubbornness won out. Her integrity was preserved. The interview was up. People applauded her silence.

In the shadows, her mentor nodded.


	4. Launch, Ten Seconds, Two Minutes

A/N: This chapter is rated higher for language. The scene simply demanded the intensity of the words I used; and if you're reading 'The Hunger Games,' you should be up for this kind of talk. But I'm warning you, all the same. Enjoy! And review, if you like!

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10. Her Launch

"Once, holy people would take a vow of silence. They saved, consecrated their voices, treating words and sounds like sacred things. A little like you, I think. Isn't that nice?

"God, it's almost time. Trust no one and nothing. They're watching at all times. They will see everything and judge. You can't stay yourself…

"You must watch right back. Always listen, always watch. You are living on a wire. Live moment by moment. Find water, higher ground.

"Oh god, please survive. I don't want to lose you like the others. You _can_ do this.

"I have a hunch.

"Good luck."

11. Her Countdown

_Ten_

Look around look around, where am I?

_Nine_

I'm in a valley, no, a canyon, the ground is grey and brown.

_Eight_

Cloud cover, well-lit but no sunshine.

_Seven_

Paths winding everywhere. Stairwells there. Levels up and down.

_Six_

I'm supposed to get lost, we're all supposed to get lost. Grey shapes in the distance – shelter?

_Five_

What's behind me? More grey shapes. Lost. Where can I find food?

_Four_

Back to the Cornucopia. Everyone is looking in the center. Everyone looks so scared.

_Three_

The Career is looking right at me.

_Two_

Fuck her.

_One_

Oh, fuck me.

12. Her First Two Minutes

She darted into the Cornucopia circle.

She grabbed a white backpack – and slipped.

Was she dying already?

_No_.

She put out her hands to brake her fall. One hand came up sticky – blood. Blood on her hand and one white shoe. A boy was bleeding nearby. She felt sick, heart pounding.

Trying to shuffle the backpack on, she turned. _She_ was approaching, something wicked in her hand. Chell was up on her feet, running. She ducked around two fighting children, and darted out of the circle. She was sprinting, leaving a trail of one red footprint behind her.

She ran.


	5. First Day, Breakthrough, Sustenance

13. Her First Day

She ran, checking to see if the bloody trail had faded behind her. When it had, she climbed one of the large grey monuments. There, she paused, savoring each breath. This was real. This was nightmare, but it was real. She checked her backpack. Not much inside.

She looked out at her surroundings. In all directions, a pale grey maze, lifeless, sterile. Nightmare, all around. Nightmare.

Eight cannons sounded. Each one said, "_Not me. Not yet. Not yet_."

She was exposed, alone, and every fiber of her filled with fear.

She climbed down, heading – she thought – southwest.

14. Her Breakthrough

To keep herself occupied on the move, she studied the trees. There was something wrong with them – wrong in a Capitol way. She measured out their spacing, their branches. The pictograms on their trunks, and the blank space below them, like a sheet of paper – what for?

Finally, in a flood of inspiration born of starvation, she understood. She stumbled to one, studying the pictograms there, tracing the air. Then, bending forward, her shaking finger drew a shape on the blank space. The next part in the sequence… she hoped… or was it?

The tree shivered, raining down apples.

Victory.

15. Her Sustenance

They weren't apples, Chell realized. They were wrapped packets of food: Crackers and bean spread, dried fruit. It would keep her alive – but thirsty. And her thermos was half-empty.

The first pool she found was clear, like glass, with a blue tint. Chell stared at it a long while, considering, and then turned away.

The next pool was green, and shaded – and something moved in it. She took another path.

The third pool was good. She studied it a long time. Its taste was right. She lived.

She moved on. She'd seen no one else so far, and liked that.


	6. First Kill, Parachute, Gift

16. Her First Kill

An attack by night; Chell won.

The yellow-eyed Career girl had found the shivering tribute, desperate for food. She took her in from the cold, whispering "Obey me." For three days, she offered protection, nourishment, even love.

Then, a test: "Find this tribute. Kill her."

Chell only heard the tribute whisper "There you are." She snapped awake. Her bone-pale, bone-thin attacker held a knife, and that drove Chell to fight like never before. Finally, she threw the girl over the edge of the monolith.

_Crack_.

Chell reclaimed the knife – Career grade. She worked out the rest of the story herself.

17. Her Parachute

A boy surprised her in a corner. He was hollow-eyed, alone for too long. He shoved her, punching, urging "Scream! Scream for me!" His words were like thrown pebbles. She found her knife. He shrieked when she stuck him. Still she said nothing.

Cannon-blast.

Shaking, wincing, and bleeding, Chell walked away. She couldn't stop shivering. Another puzzle-tree appeared. Leaning on it, Chell forced her mind to work, forcing the shapes to make sense. Eventually, under the relentless press of her will, they did.

With the fruit fell a silver parachute. It contained medicine, and… a can of red spray paint.

18. Her Gift

She could almost hear the Capitol laughter:

"_Crazy old Doug, getting paint for his tribute!_"

But she smiled, and nodded to the sky. _Thanks_.

…

The other tributes, frightened, wandering, wondered at the marks that appeared on the walls, bleeding symbols that none of them recognized. Her District partner would have known the signs – "_Closed way_," "_Good way_," "_This way_" – but the Capitol had collected him. So none of them saw the shadow flit through the arena, learning its secrets.

And one tribute smiled at the symbols, and touched them gently.

And another scowled at them, and smeared them out.


	7. Silence, Singer, Companion

19. The Silence

The red paint spluttered and ran thin.

The arena's silence pounded at Chell. She wanted to scream. More than fourteen dead, over fourteen days. Fourteen voices that would never speak again. The silence would devour her, in this arena with no birds, no wind, no water. But she would not break her own – could not.

It was the only thing of _hers_ left.

In the entire arena, the only sound was the splatter of the paint can yielding its last mouthful of red. Chell sank a red handprint onto the wall.

_Clunk_.

The abandoned can rolled on the concrete ground.

20. The Singer

The voice was so soft Chell didn't even realize what she was hearing until it stopped. Cautious, she followed it.

She came upon a dead end, a hidey-hole in the labyrinth. Propped against the wall, legs extended before her, sat the singer. Small and still, a pink heart chained to her neck, she stopped singing when Chell appeared.

"Finally," she mumbled. She sat up straighter, and waited. "Where's your weapon? I'm defenseless." Chell entered the dead end carefully, but didn't look away. The tribute's cheeks were pale and feverish.

"Go on. _Please_."

She wanted death. She wanted a mercy kill.

21. Her Companion

Chell took out her knife and lunged.

She froze, her knife six inches above the girl's head. The tribute flinched, but her legs remained still – paralysis. So she was small, injured, and ill. So she sang for death to find her. Chell sheathed her knife and the girl looked up. "What? Why not – what are you doing?"

Chell sat beside her and with a red hand pulled out food.

"You're the one who left the signs. They helped me find safety." The pink-faced tribute looked at her warily, taking some food. "Are we allies, then?"

Ally, no. But maybe companions.


	8. Conversation, Feast, Sacrifice

22. Her Conversation

Next morning, Chell hitched up the girl, piggyback-style, and moved on.

"Why're you doing this?" The girl – Cissy – asked. "I broke my spine trying to get away from the yellow-eyed Career. I'm useless now. Why?"

Chell answered herself in silence: for pity's sake. Because gentleness is essential, not to survival, but to humanity.

"… Won't say, huh? _Can_ you talk?" Grinning, Chell nodded. "Crazy."

They won food… but not enough. The puzzles were getting harder, the trees dropping less food. Cissy was lightheaded, and Chell little better.

So at first, she thought she dreamed the expansive, transformative words:

"A Feast!"

23. The Feast

_I'll find out when we get there_.

So Chell told herself, step by step on the way to the Cornucopia, carrying Cissy. The plan: pick a vantage point. Watch. Observe. Strike if the chance arises. Don't be distracted by food.

She watched the others approach, but not the one she dreaded. She wondered, what had they been doing? How have they kept their sanity? _Have_ they?

"_Look!_"

The Feast was… a chocolate cake, topped with cherries. That was it.

After a disbelieving pause, the other stampeded.

Chell gasped. She'd finally spotted the Career's handiwork – the ground was colored with kerosene.

24. The Sacrifice

Cissy shrank back, but Chell searched the flames. If _she_ had set the fire, then _she _would be—

_"CHELL!" _

She turned. The Career was there, looming over Chell, a hollow syringe in one hand.

She smiled, raised her weapon –

A hand clawed Chell's shoulder, drawing blood. Cissy pulled herself up and flung herself onto the Career.

"Run!"

Chell didn't want to; she had no way out –

"_Go, Chell!_"

Except –

She jumped off the monolith. Some instinct prompted her to roll. Her shoulder, not her legs, took the impact. Though the flames ravaged her, she ran. She heard her friend's death.


	9. End, Remnants, Trick

25. The End

The arena had changed. The cloudy bright sky was dark red, and the arena was colored like a fresh burn. The walls echoed with the ghosts of its many victims. Chell was not imagining it – if she were, then – she was losing her mind –

This was the end. The end of days, the last shriek of humanity before the fire took them all. But Chell wouldn't shriek – would hold on. Not by her choice. She had lost all words. Her thoughts didn't shape into words anymore.

She wandered. Her right shoulder tortured her. Her heart broke.

This was the end.

26. The Remnants

A ghost's evidence: disgusting splash of crimson – and a discarded weapon. An iron crowbar. Gift? Theft? Chell didn't care. It was good luck for her. She took it, swung it – and bit her tongue, as her shoulder exploded in pain. She kept it, anyway, moving away.

One last parachute: delivering three pills. Chell took one. Relief.

Cannon. That meant – she was _sure_ – it was only two now. How would she find her?

Light sprang up below Chell's feet. A string led from her right, around a corner. She moved left and the lights followed her, guiding her death to her.

27. The Trick

She ran, following her graffiti and praying they bought her enough time. But they had been blotted out in red, so that all the routes of the massive labyrinth arena only led her to the damned Cornucopia.

She stumbled into the clearing, and retched. It still smelled of burned meat. The weapons and food were all gone. She clung to her crowbar. Would she just _wait_ for the Career?

She looked at the ground, fire-warped and horribly blackened, and realized:

The arena hadn't been built for fire. The floor was pliable.

She gulped another pill, knelt, and set to work.


	10. Career, Killer, Victor

28. The Career

The Career entered the clearing. She spoke, voice hoarse:

"You can't escape, you know. Show yourself. Let's get this over with."

Chell waited. Clinging to her crowbar. Beyond pain. Beyond fear. Choking on the smell of cake.

"_Where are you_?"

Only an inch of lifted floor let her see the Career, who paced the clearing in a slow, closing spiral. She neared Chell… was almost there… finally, when one black shoe was before Chell's eyes –

Chell struck. The syringe fell and cracked. Chell struck again. The Career fell, crippled. Chell crawled out of the ground, ready to end this.

29. The Killer

The Career's syringe was broken apart, but she knew how to defend, and fight: viciously.

"What are you even fighting for? To avenge your ally? To honor your District? _Why?_" You…you don't deserve to win. You're not a good person. Good people don't – end up – here!"

She grabbed the needle, and jammed it into Chell's shoulder. Chell's world exploded. She dropped the crowbar, scrambled for the last pill – it slipped through her fingers and rolled away.

The end…

Her left hand found the crowbar, gripped it, swung – connected with the Career's temple.

Chell knew why she fought: to get out.

30. The Victor

Trembling, Chell stopped. She fell to her knees over the Career's body. The white-haired girl was muttering something. Chell leaned in, and heard: "_Caroline_. _Caroline._"

Suddenly, Chell wanted, very badly, for her to die. One last time, she lifted her stolen knife. She struck the spine, with her last strength.

The labored breathing ceased. For one moment that would never end, the arena was completely silent.

Then, Chell screamed.

Her voice clawed out of her, drowning out the trumpets, announcement, and the hovercraft. It seemed to lift her up, away, past the red sky, _out_…

It was over. She'd won.


	11. Recovery, Lab Rat, Homecoming

31. Recovery

Machines hummed all around her. Not loud enough.

Chell hummed meaningless tunes over and over, looking nowhere. Doug sat next to her.

"I'd recommend you talk in the next interview. Silence was cute… before. But you… belong to the Capitol now." His pauses were long. "I'm sorry I couldn't… I'm glad you're…" He stopped.

She coughed, whispered in his ear.

"Caroline? That was her name… family's name. Before she was taken… trained." His cold hands passed her a pink heart on a chain. "Cissy's mentor wanted you to have this."

Chell stared, blinked, coughed – and at last, the tears came.

32. The Lab Rat

"In my Game, it was a swamp, full of gasses. Some you could see, some you couldn't. Some kept you from sleeping, or made you sleep. Some stole your vision, some your mind. It was very entertaining, lab rats acting against their natures. Only one lab rat thought to dig beneath the swamp and sabotage the nozzles that produced the gas. He was so pleased with himself. Idiot.

"He didn't go home. He lived. He never left the arena.

"Chell, you're stronger than I ever was. They won't forgive you that trick, but you will survive. I swear you will."

33. The Homecoming

Chell knew her time was borrowed. Don't ask how. But the time she now divided into music did not feel like her own. The arena was never so far away that it couldn't take her. One day, the Capitol would make her pay…

But for now, borrowed time was enough.

Cheers filled the air. Her District was screaming for her, yelling "CHELL! CHELL!" filling the air with their joy and pride and love for her. Under the endless sky, one face was clear, and visible, and so close. Chell reached for her friend, laughing, and crying, and called her name.

The End

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Thank you so much for following along with this little story! I hope you enjoyed it. If you could leave a review, that'd be great. This was a fun challenge for me, and a great way to explore two extraordinary stories that have a surprising amount in common. Thanks again!


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